


Ever After (Cherik AU)

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Cinderella, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, M/M, Male Cinderella, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-08
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 20:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In late 16th century France, Charles is a modest servant in his stepfather's house. A chance meeting with Prince Erik has him terrified, but the Prince adores him and his compassion. The King announces to the country that Prince Erik does not have to marry the Princess of Spain if he can find himself a spouse by DaVinci's Ball, and Charles' stepbrother Cain desperately tries to court the Prince, but he is busy falling for Charles. (Tumblr user camii123 asked for a Cherik AU based on the movie Ever After. She also beta's and helps me when I am stuck on details)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

                The Xaviers were a well off house in 16th century France, with an estate just outside of Paris. Charles Xavier was the only son of Brian and Sharon Xavier, the former of whom had died early in his childhood. Countess Xavier had eventually remarried, a Baron named Kurt Marko who had two children of his own, Cain and Raven. Baron Marko was not a particularly affectionate man, but Sharon brought it out in him, particularly with the way she treated his kids as her own.

                The Countess was tucking the three of them into bed herself and had shuffled a maid out of the room (“Really dear, the day has been long. You ought to retire for the night,”) when Charles picked up a book sitting on the table by the hearth.

                “Mother, what’s this one?” Charles held out the book to her expectantly.

                “Oh, that little thing? It’s called Utopia. One of my favorites when I was younger.”

                “Would you read it to me?”

The countess took the book out of her son’s hands and looked at it fondly. “Just the first few pages, or until you fall asleep, darling.”

Charles clapped his hands excitedly and kissed his mother on the cheek. As she sat in the chair next to the hearth Charles climbed into bed and made himself comfortable. Cain was already breathing deeply and Raven perked up in her bed, fighting the sleep in her eyes even though it was clearly a lost battle to be over shortly. The soft, luscious voice of the countess put Raven to sleep within minutes; Charles fought the weight of his eyelids for a good few pages longer than his new sister, eventually succumbing to sleep as well. Sharon looked up while turning a page to see him fallen asleep, and smiled. Rising from her chair, she placed the book atop the fireplace and tiptoed over to Charles’ sleeping form, whereafter she tucked a lock of his deep chestnut hair behind his ear.

“Goodnight, Charles.”

 

* * *

 

 

                Countess Xavier had matters to attend to in Bourges, and the next morning she had prepared a carriage for her departure. She kissed Charles on the forehead and embraced Marko before he assisted her getting into the carriage. Baron Marko made to retreat into the house when a Charles tugged on his sleeve.

                “Wait! When she gets to the gate she’ll stop to wave back at us. It’s tradition!” Charles said with excitement in his voice.

                Baron Marko, although unamused, complied. Cain snickered at Charles’ childish behavior, and Raven looked intrigued.

                As Charles promised, the carriage came to a halt right before passing through the front gate. A moment passed, and Marko furrowed his brow with impatience; Charles frowned in confusion.

                The door to the carriage swung open and Countess Xavier poured out of the cabin unceremoniously, a hand clutching her chest as if she couldn’t breathe and her antics twisted in pain.

                “Mother!” Charles sprinted across the lawn of the estate, ruining the new slippers of expensive silk (being too young for boots yet). The Baron’s stride made up for his hesitation, and Charles and Kurt fell to their knees nearly in unison in front of her.

                “Sharon,” Baron Marko breathed.

                “Mother,” Charles sobbed.

                “I… love you.” The countess’ breathes were shallow and her hand shook as it slowly made its way to Charles’ face. Tears fell as his mother tried to push a lock of hair behind Charles’ ear, an affectionate gesture Charles knew to be her sincerest.

                Baron Marko clung desperately to her other hand, but all of his wife’s attention was on Charles. Something about his face hardened when he realized Sharon’s last words were not meant for him.

                “Mother,” Charles pleaded softly.

                Her eyes went dull. Her grip faded in her husband’s hand as her young son clung to her dress.


	2. Throwing Apples

Baron Marko grew bitter towards his stepson Charles. By the time he was fourteen, Marko had somehow manipulated Charles to the point where he was fetching water and tending the horses like the servant staff of the House. Cain reveled in every opportunity to be unkind, with Kurt practically encouraging. A bit of a silver lining was that the staff of the house was always incredibly kind to him, often even taking his chores from him when the Markos were not looking. Hank and Charles kept eachother as close friends, and often times Hank felt more like a brother than Cain.

By the time he was eighteen, one would not guess he could be the son of a count by the way of his dress. His shirts were often plain and dirty, his trousers much the same. Freckles dusted his cheeks from hours spent outdoors, and the physical labor certainly hadn’t done any damage to his physique over the last few years.

Charles was picking fruit in the small orchard when he heard the horses panicking. He rounded the barn to see a man trying to steal one of the horses.

“Hey! Stop!” Charles broke into a dead sprint, dropping most of the apples in his arms.

The thief was halfway on the saddle when Charles aimed his last apple right at the man’s head. A satisfying _oomph_ signaled that Charles had hit his target squarely.

Charles jogged the rest of the way to apprehend the thief. “Just who do you think you are, stealing people’s hors—“

Charles’ eyes widened in horror as the man stood up to dust himself off, for he immediately recognized him as Prince Erik.

“You’ve got quite an arm on you.” Erik said, rubbing his head where the apple had connected with his skull.

Charles fell to his knees and put his face to the ground. “Forgive me your Highness, I did not recognize you.”

“Well, you were only defending that which is yours.” Prince Erik mused. Prince Erik spotted a royal patrol on the hilltop opposite the Xavier house and displeasure worried his otherwise handsome face. He hastily mounted the horse, this time successfully.

“And for that I must face the consequences.” Charles' face was still in the grass, his vioce trembeling with fear.

Prince Erik pulled a coin purse out from his pocket and dropped it on the ground near Charles. “For your secrecy, my good sir; tell no one you have seen me. I will return your horse by tomorrow.” And with that he spurred the horse away.

Charles dared to raise his head as Prince Erik fled, staring after him in confusion. What on Earth had the Prince in such a rush to be off that he could not deal with a meager citizen that had assaulted him? And why was he without an escort? His eyes eventually wandered to the purse, which looked rather heavy with gold.

Charles opened the purse and decided that it was better not to ask questions. He gathered up the apples he had dropped (the one that hit the Prince’s head was bruised; he fed it to a horse instead) and returned to the orchard, where he picked the rest of the apples that were ripe.

Upon return to the house, he found chaos. Kurt had decided to sell one of the servants to pay off a debt, and Logan had been standing next to him when he made that decision. Jean was in hysterics, Sean and Moria holding her back as Logan was ushered none too gently on a cart that was driven by a sinister looking man.

Baron Kurt was quarreling with a squire, who seemed to be in charge of the arrangement.

“Baron Marko, what are you doing?”

“Settling a debt, Charles. What does it look like?”

 "You can't just _sell_ him! Logan has been a servant of this house for twenty years."

"Then you'l be relieved to know that I've sold Logan's contract, not the man himself," Kurt said snidely. "Besides, I'm sure the work the palace gives him will be much lighter a load than what he does here."

The carriage man snorted in amused disagreement.

Charles fumed and turned away, deciding consoling Jean was the most he could do to help anymore. Hank and Moria had ushered her into the servants' quarters, where she had resigned to sobbing quietly. Charles paced the short width of the room as he tried to think of something to say to Jean.

"He can't just do this!" Charles kicked an empty crate against the wall.

"Well monsieur Charles, apparently he can." Hank said bitterly.

Charles sighed heavily and resumed pacing. "He acts like you are _property_. It's sickening."

"It is. But unless we can buy Logan back, we just have to suck it up Charles."

"That's impossible! Kurt sold him for twenty gold pieces, where would we get-" Charles stopped midthought and midstride, touching the coin purse the prince had so effortlessly handed over to him about a half hour earlier. He pulled it out and emptied its contents onto the table next to Jean and Moria.

"I think that might be near enough," Hank chocked out.

"Where did you get all of that?" Jean whispered, her eyes glazing with wonder.

"A gift from a stranger. Come on guys, I have an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some editing to this chapter because Gustave's character was missing (now he's here as Hank) also as soon as camii123 betas the next chapter chapter three will be chapter 4 (i forgot some stuff...)


	3. Mona Lisa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap so I went back and watched the beginning of Ever After and I’m missing where Henry meets DaVinci. So here it is, and just know that this should be chapter three and chapter three should be 4

Prince Erik galloped away on the borrowed horse and into the woods next to Baron Marko’s property. Imagining he was finally alone, the Prince slowed the horse to a trot and simply enjoyed the scenery. Unfortunately, this caused him to walk straight into a road, on which a caravan was being robbed by bandits.

“Stop! No, no you can’t have that! I demand you put that down instantly!” A tall blonde woman in a flawlessly white coat was chasing around the bandits who were emptying the carriages screaming at them. She had on a flawlessly white coat that seemed to give color to her porcelain skin. Prince Erik realized the woman had on heeled knee high boots, to give her the appearance of height. She seemed cold and passionate all at once, held back only by her entourage, which formed a barrier between her and the bandits as if her life were too precious to risk over loss of material possession, a thought she clearly did not share.

One particular bandit walked by her with a canvas storage tube, and the woman looked at him with a look of pure hatred. “You will give that back this instant or so help me-“

The blonde woman spotted Prince Erik on horseback and ran to him. “Please sir, you must help me! That man is stealing my life’s work!”

Erik looked down at her in wild confusion. “I- I ca-“

The woman in white looked at him with a cold kind of determination. “”You /must/. This is a matter of life and death.”

On the other side of the road a royal patrol emerged from the forest. Prince Erik decided that this woman’s request was suddenly worth his time. 

The bandits made a dash for the forest as soon as the royal patrol announced themselves, in fear of incarceration. Prince Erik reigned the horse to follow the bandit with the woman’s precious tube, though he couldn’t for the life of him understand how it could mean her life. The bandit had a small head start, which didn’t last long on account that he was running on foot and the Prince on horseback. Prince Erik reached out to grab the man by the shirt, but the man tripped and brought the prince off his horse as he hit the ground. Recovering quickly, the bandit continued to run. Prince Erik followed closely behind.

The ground beneath them came to a sharp downward slope, and the bandit slipped on wet leaves. Prince Erik lunged after him and caught hold of one end of the canister just as the two of them fell off the cliff and into the river below.

Seconds passed before Prince Erik burst out of the cold water, gasping for air. The canister, his prize, surfaced shortly after himself. The bandit was making a break for it downstream, but the Prince did not care enough to catch him. 

Prince Erik was able to eventually hike his way back to the caravan and the woman in white. The royal patrol was still lingering, and the Prince sighed heavily. So much for not getting caught.

“Mademoiselle, this belongs to you I believe?” Prince Erik said as he approached hearing distance of the caravan. 

“Oh bless the skies, you’ve saved me!” The woman in white nearly snatched the canister from his hands.

“You’re welcome,” Prince Erik said as he dismounted his horse. “You said this was a matter of life and death- but I do not see how.”

“A woman always is,” The woman in white said as she pulled a rolled canvas out of the container. The canvas unrolled to reveal an exquisite portrait that could be mistaken for nothing but the famous Mona Lisa. “It’s my life’s work, you see.”

“You’re Signora DaVinci? Emma Leona DaVinci?” The Prince said in disbelief.

“Just Emma to you, my good sir. And you might be…?” Emma looked at him expectantly.

“He is Sir Erik, the crowned Prince of France, Mademoiselle, and he is currently out against the king’s wishes,” the lead of the royal guard interrupted.

“Yes, yes,” Prince Erik rolled his eyes. “But you! You are DaVinci! The maker of modern thought! A social visionary! My father is the king of backward reason, perhaps you could bring him into the sixteenth century!”

Signora Emma looked to the royal guardsman for help. “Translation?”

The guardsmen sighed and explained, “Prince Erik suffers from an arranged marriage… Among other things.”

Prince Erik ignored the insult. “Please, Signora, if anyone could change my father’s mind about the whole ordeal, it’s you.” The Prince begged.

Signora Emma looked at the Prince with pity. But he had done her the kindness of saving her painting, and she supposed she owed him the favor. “I will talk to him for you, but I cannot promise anything. I am just a painter, dear prince.”

“Yes! Thank you, thank you so much Signora!” Prince Erik embraced Emma in an expression of gratitude. Turning to the royal guard, he said, “Now, I believe you are on a mission to return me to the king? Senora DaVinci needs the escort as well, as you can see. And a horse, if you’d be so kind to my father’s honored guest.”

Signora Emma smiled at the courtesy. “A white one, if you don’t mind.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was origionally chapter 3, but i messed up somewhere so now it's chapter 4

Within an hour, Hank and Darwin had Charles dressed in a fine tunic that was bought for Cain but failed short to charm him, despite the intricate champagne colored embroidery on its front and shoulders. Paired with a fine pair of trousers and clean riding boots, Charles was ready to pass as a courtier. After all, only a noble had the authority to deal in the matter of the purchase and sale of servants.

Charles rode into town on horseback, keeping an eye out for the cart that Logan was on. He spotted it just as the palace gates came into view. Charles dismounted the horse, bouncing lightly on the ground. A housemaid with a bucket gave him a sideways glance, and Charles recalled that nobles in Paris were usually very somber people. Charles smoothed out his hair and pressed the few wrinkles out of his tunic. Shoulders pushed back and head held at a slightly higher angle than usual, Charles approached the cart that held Logan and the other servants that had been sold off.

Charles cleared his throat to get the coach driver’s attention.

“Monsieur,” the driver dipped his head in acknowledgement.

“Good morning, sir. I am here to inform you that there has been a mistake in my staff’s arrangements, and one of these men has been sold to you by accident. I am here to buy him back.”

The coach driver laughed. “The crown does not give refunds, monsieur.”

Charles felt his confidence waiver. His jaw clenched and he gave the man a cold stare; intimidation was probably the only card he could play to convince him to let Logan go.

“My staff member was sold without my express permission, and you are denying me the right to fix a subordinate’s errors in my house? I am prepared to pay what he was sold for, in full. It would incur neither you nor the crown any loss and you refuse to assist me?”

“Sorry monsieur, take it up with my master. I don’t write the laws.”

“But I do,” a somewhat familiar voice said behind Charles. The owner of the voice walked past his left and towards the coach driver. Charles froze in a moment of horror and realized it was the prince.

“Your highness,” Charles gave the prince a low and formal bow, praying he was unrecognizable.

“Monsieur,” Prince Erik acknowledged the gesture as he dismounted his horse (/Charles’/ horse actually, from earlier this morning). “What can I do for you?”

“A member of my staff has been sold to you by mistake, I was humbly requesting from your servicemen here if the transaction could be reversed. He has regrettably informed me that this is not likely.”

“I’m just following the palace orders, your highness. I meant no disrespect to-“

Prince Erik held up a hand to silence the coach driver. “How much was your servant sold for, sir?”

“Thirty gold pieces, your highness.”

“Sell him back to this man for twenty.”

“S-sir?” the coach driver choked.

“As an apology for the inconvenience, monsieur." Prince Erik smiled eagerly, like a child expecting to be praised.

Charles merely produced the gold from his pocket-- thank God Darwin had found a coin purse that matched the tunic he was wearing, and insist that Charles use it; surely the prince would have recognized his own purse from this morning.

The Prince frowned at Charles in distaste. "Why are you not impressed? I've helped you with your affairs."

"Well, your highness, I am grateful.” Charles paused to weigh the consequences of answering honestly. “But you have kept order in this situation, which is in fact the obligation of the law, which you are an embodiment of. I did not think myself to be any special circumstance for so gracious a mediator.”

Prince Erik stared at Charles, awestruck. The prince turned to the coach driver. “Free him.”

“Wh-what?”

“Free the man.”

Charles fought valiantly to not run to Logan as he was removed, somewhat gently, from the caged back of the coach. Charles was sorry he had to treat Logan so coldly, inspecting Logan for injuries instead of embracing him, but there was a look in Logan’s eyes that said he understood what Charles was up to, and that he found it in their best interests that the charade go on unspoiled. So Logan stood with his head down as Charles thanked the prince.

“Thank you, your highness. I am in debt to your generosity.” Charles’ words had the slightest stress in them, as if he didn’t completely mean it.  
Prince Erik noticed. “What have I done? You are now more upset than when you got here.”

Charles grimaced, as if not wanting to say, but Prince Erik seemed to honestly want an answer.

“Well, your highness, it’s just that you’ve freed my servant, but what about the other men? Why should they suffer simply because their masters are not as remorseful as I over the loss of them?”

Something in the prince’s face softened, as if he were being exposed to true compassion for the first time and found it beautiful. It was gone after a moment, replaced by a look of determination. Prince Erik ignored the coach driver’s protests and walked to the back of the cart. As he opened the latch he recited, “by order of the crown of France, you are all now free men with no obligation of a monetary debt to the crown, and may work or roam as you please.”

The men in the cart suddenly sprang to life, bouncing on their feet as they jumped down from the cart with an endless string of praises falling from their mouths. “Merci!” “God bless you, your highness.” “Thank you, my lord.”

Charles could not help but smile jubilantly at the way some of the newly freed men looked at the street as if for the first time; others ran off immediately shouting the names of presumably loved ones. Charles caught sight of the prince staring at him and wiped the smile off his face, replacing it with a passive gaze.

“Who are you?” Prince Erik asked, completely in wonder.

“Just a simple courtier, your highness.”

The Prince laughed. “Are you really not going to tell me your name?”

“I- uhh, I can’t.”

“Give me a name. Any name.” Prince Erik pleaded.

Charles panicked. He could not give the prince his actual name, and he could not give another courtier’s name (and commit impersonation). “I- I’m afraid the only name I can leave you with is James DeLoncree, your highness.”

“James;” Prince Erik tried the name, smiling at Charles. “See now, that wasn't so hard.”

Charles smiled meekly back at him. “I really must be going now your highness, thank you for everything.”

Erik reached for Charles’ right hand and bent at the waist to place a small kiss on the back of his wrist. “Adieu, James. I hope to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I used James bc of James McAvoy. Cami thought it was cute.  
> Sorry this took so long to update, college has been hell


End file.
